


Irrelevance

by SonofThrainSonofThror



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Ballet!Will, Eating Disorders, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-22
Packaged: 2018-04-09 20:00:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 7,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4362239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonofThrainSonofThror/pseuds/SonofThrainSonofThror
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter have been roommates for little over two weeks, when Hannibal discovers a different side of his roommate.  (Trigger warning: eating disorder and depression/suicidal thoughts)  Prepare yourselves, Hannibal is singing Lithuanian lullabies and Will's a brilliant ballet dancer.   Sadness mixed with fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beginnings (Souffle)

Hannibal could remember the day this all started. January 14th, his distant roommate came home devastated. Ballet stretched from 6 am to 7 pm. These hours seem absurd to you and I, but to Will they were average, perhaps slightly below. For the record, so was Will’s weight, but that doesn’t matter right now.

Here’s what does:

January 14th, 7:13 pm. William Graham unlocks the door as if it were a bomb. Hannibal heard the delicate scratching of the key, and brushed it aside--his souffle was two minutes away from perfection. The blond had gotten in the habit of slightly over preparing meals, for he wasn’t used to eating alone.

Will was.

Lecter pulled the souffle from the oven and set it to cool. He hummed along with Brahms and set the table...for two. The volume was exactly four clicks too high for him to hear his roommate’s distress.

In the confines of his room, Will sobbed to himself, clutching his ribs--actually, his stomach. Twenty pounds… He could still hear Madame Jackson’s disappointment. He’d let himself slip over the holidays. Cookies, cakes, pies and candies, all in all, thousands of calories. Before, he was a manageable five pounds too heavy, now he was twenty. He could still feel the costume’s silky fabric between his fingertips. It was his dream role, and he wanted nothing more than to dance it. Romeo Montague…he’d trained for years.

Hannibal wanted nothing more than for his roommate to taste his cooking. Will’s performance may have been on the stage, but Hannibal’s was in the kitchen. Will had only eaten with him once.

Something told the culinary prodigy to turn his music down.

We wouldn’t have a story if he didn’t .


	2. What We Heard Through The Wall (Spiced Cheesecake)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will starves, Hannibal worries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything's made worse by Hannibal's dazed (and adorable) awkwardness.

What Hannibal heard through the wall terrified him.  “Will?” He gingerly knocked.  Inside the room came a bit of shuffling and some rattling with the lock.  

“Hey Hannibal.” Will Graham sported a weak smile and red rimmed eyes.  

“I... er... Dinner’s ready.” He mentally kicks himself.  Mother was right, he did lack empathy.  

“Oh... ok.” Will wiped and his eyes and inhaled deeply.  

The dancer ate in silence, all the while scowling at the table cloth.  

In a moment of desperation, Hannibal decided to broach a delicate topic.  “Will, I… I mean, look--” He stammered.

“Lecter, I’m fine.” Graham snapped and flashed a sickeningly fake smile his way.  

“Oh.”  Silence.

Will finished his dinner, and with a curt, “I’m going to the the studio.” He was gone… leaving Hannibal to worry.  And when Hannibal worried, he baked.

Tonight’s Episode of Anxiety starred Chai Spiced Cheesecake, difficult and time consuming, just what Lecter needed to soothe his nerves.

In mixing the crust, he came to the conclusion that he’d  never seen Will eat, save that drunken Friday night, and a few hours ago.  

As the crust chilled in their refrigerator, Hannibal resolved that Will was underweight.  His dread deepened.

He’d just measured out the sugar, when a tormenting truth struck him.  Will was a dancer, a ballet dancer, a ballet dancer who rarely ate enough.  He considered a disorder with an A.

“Men don’t have eating disorders!” He laughed, but his voice was flat and afraid.  

Hannibal’s anxiety increased steadily, as did the ferocity of his mixing.  

He whisked with excess force, and Will pulled himself through intricate turns and leaps.  Tchaikovsky blared in both settings.

That  night ended with Hannibal’s clothing spotted with powdered sugar, and Will face down in the university parking lot.

The knife had just pierced the cheesecake creamy surface, when Will stumbled through the door.  

Bloodied and bruised, he was not gentle with the lock this time. 


	3. Crimson Ribbon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will's badly hurt, and Hannibal does what doctors do... sing their patients Lithuanian lullabies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So fluffy you're gonna die.

“William?” Hannibal called out, and the other man did not reply... he simply swayed.  The knife fell to the floor with a harsh jangle, and Hannibal ran to catch his roommate.  

This version of Will would forever be etched into Lecter’s mind: A fresh bruise blossomed across his cheek, sticky, black blood oozed from a laceration in his hairline.  These were minor injuries compared to the long, shallow gash running from his left shoulder to his ribs in a diagonal stripe.  Blood was smeared across his bare chest and his shredded jacket.  

“Jesu Maria,” Hannibal whispered to no one, “Stay with me, Will.”  He flickered in and out of consciousness.

The blond pulled Will’s arm over his shoulders and dragged him into their small bathroom.  He propped him up on the cracked counter and steadied himself.   _You’ve done this before, it’s just like the ER rotation._

First, he dealt with the slice in the victim’s hairline.  Short, and deep, and full of glass splinters.  A pair of tweezers were sterilized, and Hannibal tried to steady his shaking hands.

So much blood…

He worked in silence, plunging the tweezers into the wound, feeling around for glass, and digging out what shards he found.  The bloodied fragments fell into the sink with a slight tinkling.

Will whimpered softly, like a wounded animal.  

“ _Ar aš noriu žinoti, kaip tai atsitiko_ ?” Hannibal muttered under his breath, unaware that he was speaking in Lithuanian.

As he pulled out the glass and stitched a small gash on Will’s calf closed, he began to sing.  A lullaby his mother would sing when nightmares plagued him, one that he later sung to his little sister.  During the pediatrics rotation, he got in the habit of singing to the nervous children.  The parents loved him, and the children calmed down enough to sit for an exam.  

This was no different.  He sung softly under his breath as he worked. “ _Užsičiaupk , gana berniukas ir leiskite dygsnio tave_ …” His voice was low and soothing, Will relaxed a bit.  Hannibal knotted the thread and taped a bandage on.

“ _Jūs turėjo eiti ir gauti sau sugadinti, todėl taip miega…_ ” He dabbed an alcohol soaked cotton ball at the gash on his chest, and Will gasped in pain.  “I’m sorry _gražus_.” Hannibal gave his hand a gentle squeeze.  

“ _Kas ateina pas jus. Aš negaliu patikėti.  Tai kaip aš praleisti savo vakar._ ” He keeps singing, voice ringed with unshed tears, “ _Oho, tai apgailėtina, aš turiu galvoje, aš net ne faktinė dainą._ ”  The song is finished, he reached for a butterfly closure.  It takes seventeen closures to pull the bloody, red ribbon together, and while he’s taping and sewing his roommate back together, he’s singing under his breath.  

It must have been an odd sight to see: The dancer, propped up on the dingy counter, seventeen pale butterflies pinning his chest together.  Violet blossoms decorating his skin. The almost-doctor with blood on his hands and flecks on his pristine collar.  He’s singing in his native tongue, and his blond hair keeps falling in his dark eyes.

One falls in love tonight, one takes a little longer to come around.

“There you go, Will.” Hannibal takes Will’s feverishly warm hand in his icy one, and helps him down.  Graham stumbled out into the hallway with a grateful smile.  A couple aspirin later and the dancer is out cold.

Hannibal waits, and does a bit of thinking.  He’d never held a conversation with Will, and tonight was no different.  Lecter sang, and Will was silent, except for the occasion whimper or whine.  But it was it’s own breed of conversation.  Praying Will would learn to trust him, the blond downed his sleeping pills and laid waiting for them to kick in.

That was the first night he found himself thinking of Will, after that Will was constantly on his mind.  

“ _January 14th_

_I’ve had a breakthrough with William Graham.  He’s beginning to show signs of trust._

_-H.  Lecter_ ”

 _And he’s got the prettiest eyes…_ Hannibal thought.  He fell asleep with a smile.

 

 


	4. Desperation and Distraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will's willing to do anything to play the part, and Hannibal can't get him off his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's gonna get real bad, cutie pies. But it'll get better... eventually.   
> (Sorry it's so short :'( )

Will didn’t eat breakfast the next day.  Lecter ate his omelet alone, which came as no surprise.  “ _But after last night…_ ” he thought and chided himself for being so naive.  

Meanwhile, Will was across town begging Madame Jackson to let him audition for Romeo.  When she refused, he got desperate.  "I'll do anything!" He blurted, "I'll lose the weight, put in extra hours, just please let my audition, Madame!"  Madame Jackson turned with a wicked smile, "Anything? Are you sure, Mr. Graham?"  Will nodded earnestly.  "This'll be delicious." She sneered under her breath.  "You're free to go, William." 

Hannibal was thinking about Will when he was supposed to be observed a surgery.  The students around him were taking notes feverishly yet, his notes were blank and the procedure was nearly over.  Distractedly, he watched the surgeon suture the patient up, and found himself thinking about last night.   The surgeon, a short woman with graying hair stepped away from the operating table.  "That's a wrap people!" She clapped her gloved hands together and exited the room.    _I'm going to fail this class._ Hannibal thought with dread.  

He tried desperately to remember what type of clamps they'd used, but his efforts were in vain.   _G ražus.  _The word flits through his mind.   _You called him beautiful?!_ His conscience screams at him.  "I said it in Lithuanian," He tells the empty room, "He'll never know."   


_ He'll never know.   _He'll never know. _He'll never know.__ _

Will's eyes match the surgical drapes.  

 

 


	5. Chanel No. 5 and Cigarette Smoke (Tiramisu)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The confrontation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh, yikes.

Will ate four saltine crackers for lunch, he didn't eat dinner.  Neither did Hannibal, for the first time, he was too worried to eat.  He unbuttoned his collar, cuffed his sleeves and sat down at the table with his second glass of Merlot. 

**eatingdisordereatingdisordereatingdisordereatingdisordereatingdisorder**

He let the words run together until their meaning was lost, and they became a tangle of alien syllables.  He needed to tell Will, but how exactly does one do that? In the sixteen days they'd been living together, Hannibal had spoken a mere eleven words to his roommate.  And broaching the topic of eating disorders wasn't exactly casual conversation.  

"Jesu Maria, I can't do this!" He proclaimed to the ceiling and poured a third glass of wine.  

"Sometimes we have to do things that we think we can't do."  His mother interjected and materialized in the seat across from him.  

"Motina, I... I can't." Lecter sputtered. 

"Listen to me, Hanni.  Your friend  _needs_ you.  Promise me you'll talk to him." She adjusted her scarf and lit a cigarette to seal the deal.  "And please, don't drink so much!"  She exclaimed with a smile.  

"Aš tave myliu, Mama." Hannibal replied sadly. 

"I love you too, my sweet boy." And she was gone again, leaving nothing but Chanel No. 5 and cigarette smoke.  He missed her terribly. 

"You know, I like the dead version of her a bit better." He confessed to the empty kitchen with a chuckle.  The last time Hannibal saw the tangible version of his mother, she was horribly mangled from the crash.  Blood soaking through one of her many silk scarves, her usually smooth, blonde coiffure a sticky, red mess, a glowing cigarette rested in her lap.  He closed his eyes and tried to forget the way her collarbone protruded from her blouse, or her femur stuck out of her skirt.   He was eleven years old.  

The psychic said it was her spirit, the doctor said it was a hallucination, the psychiatrist said it was a projection of his sub-conscious.  A small part of him believed the psychic, for Mrs. Lecter was as sweet and witty as she'd been during her life.  She still had a smoking habit, and she still wore her hair back in a twist.   Sometimes it felt like she was real. 

***

When Will came home that night, Hannibal was ready.  He sat at the table waiting for his Corolla to pull up, for forty-five minutes.  "Will, we need to talk."  Graham had barely stepped through the door. 

"I understand if you want to transfer out." Will sighed.  "No!" the other man shouted, with a touch too much emotion.  "I mean, that's not what I wanted to talk about." 

"Oh? What is it then?" Confusion clouded his features.  "Look, you'd probably like to sit down." Hannibal offered. 

 _Sometimes we have to do things that we think we can't do._ He caught a faint whiff of Chanel No. 5 as the thought passed him by. 

With Will carefully seated at the kitchen table, he began his dreaded speech.  "Will, this is hard to say, but I'm going to try.  I'm... well... I'm worried about you."  Hannibal blurted and blushed a horrific red. 

Will muttered something that sounded like, "It was only a matter of time." 

Now Hannibal was furious.  "You.  Don't.  Eat." He spat through gritted teeth.  "Now I may only be on my first year of medical school, but I know it's a basic human function! And you," He jabbed a harsh finger towards the man, "don't seem to know that!" 

Tears brimmed in his roommate's eyes, "Wow." He whispered bitterly. 

"Look what you've done!" Mrs. Lecter chided, "You've made the poor boy cry!" She pinched the bridge of her nose in exasperation. 

"Will, I--"

"Hannibal, don't." 

Will ran a hand through his hair, and Hannibal clenched his fists beneath the table.   _It wasn't supposed to happen this way!_ He thought.   _Ugh, Jesu Maria, why?!_

"Do they take your weight when you apply for medical school?" Will snarled, and Hannibal's heart plunged into his stomach, "No."

"Dr. Lecter," Will asked with a poisonous edge, "Are you twenty pounds away from your dreams?"  The blond groaned inwardly, and wished to be dead.  "No." He choked out. 

"Are the latex gloves and surgical gowns only one size?" 

Now it was Hannibal's turn to almost-cry.  "Will, I'm--"

"You don't know me.  And I doubt you ever will." He stood violently and started walking away.  Hannibal reached out and seized his sleeve.  "Please Will, this isn't good for you." 

"Dr. Lecter, this discussion is  _over."_ Will wrenched his sleeve away. 

"NO IT ISN'T!" Hannibal roared.  "I WILL NOT STAND IDLY BY WHILE YOU RUIN YOURSELF!  I REFUSE TO WATCH YOUR DESTRUCTION!!" His accent became considerably thicker when he was angry. 

"Then leave!"

"Will, I couldn't do that--"

"It is  _my_ body to ruin, NOT YOURS!" Will's voice broke just before the tears began to flow. 

"Please  _grazus,_ you're killing yourself." 

"I will destroy this body, just you watch me!" And with those sharp words hanging in the air, he stormed out. 

Hannibal sunk to the floor, unable to stand from the weight on his shoulders. 

 _"Grazus,_ mmmm?" His mother appeared next to him. "So  _that's_ how you feel.  Why didn't you tell me, sweetheart?" 

"It seemed irrelevant." He replied dryly. 

"Always Mr. Vocabulary," she chuckled, "Hanni, love will never be irrelevant." She wrapped her arms around him, her red scarf brushing against his cheek.  Pressing a warm kiss into his hair, she said, " _Mielasis,_ if you love him, you've got to keep trying.  Normally, I'm exaggerating when I say this, but Hanni, this  _is_ life or death.  You've got to do something."  Hannibal was left alone again. 

He had to do something, so he baked tiramisu.  And listened to Will's muffled cries through their thin walls.  This broke his heart, he wanted nothing more than to comfort him, and  _fix_ him.  But alas, such things were not in Lecter's power, all he  _could_ do was back tiramisu and hold back tears. 

 


	6. Nightmare No. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night terrors (and memory loss) ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um, if you're looking to kill some time, might I suggest translating Hannibal's lullabies? Google translate is your friend, babes. Have fun! :D

That night, despite the white pills, he couldn't sleep. He laid awake and watched Will's breath come in slow, even waves. Graham slept peacefully until 1:37 am.  
Nightmare No. 1:  
"HELP!!" Will screamed, snapping his roommate out of a very light sleep.  
"Will?"  
No reply.  
Hannibal stumbled out of bed and rushed over to where Will lay panting and clutching the sheets with white knuckles.  
"Will? Will??" Hannibal shook him frantically. Graham gasped and bolted up, "I'm alive." He whispered and stared ahead with wide eyes. The eyes of a wild animal.  
"Oh mielasis, it was only a dream." Hannibal soothes. He wraps Will up and holds him tightly.  
"Will." He says his name just to say it, loving how it sounds. Hannibal presses soft kisses into Will's dark curls. "I love you." He breathes, so quietly that even he can barely hear it.  
Lecter sifts through his memory and pulls another song forward. 

"Niekada viskas suteiks jums iki Niekada viskas myžti ant sūrio Niekada ketina paleisti aplink ir dykumos jus Niekada vyksta, kad jums verkti Niekada ketina atsisveikinti Niekada ruošiesi pameluoti ir jums pakenkti..." 

Will's out cold by the second line of the song, but Hannibal keeps singing. And when it's over, he leans back against the headboard and just sits, enjoying the feeling of Will's head in the crook of his neck. "What have I gotten myself into, Mama?" But this time, his mother does not appear.  
He plants another warm kiss into his curls, and realizes how lucky he is. How lucky he is to have this moment. 

Lecter doesn't remember falling asleep, but he remembers waking up. He was civered in a faded quilt. It smelled like Will. A perfect blend of pine, yellowed paper and old leather. 

There was a note on the foot of the bed.


	7. Amnesia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night terror is forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The break before the storm.

"Hannibal,

    Waking up next to you isn't the strangest thing that's ever happened to me, but it makes the top five.  Whatever happened happened, I understand that, but I think it would be better if we pretended like it didn't.  You seem like a nice guy, could you do this for me?

                                -Will"

 

Hannibal sat back in shock.  He doesn’t remember.  Lecter couldn’t decide if he should be glad, or disappointed.  How could he not remember?  Then Hannibal remembered.

 

“...Unlike nightmares, which are often remembered, the subject won't have any memory of a night terror the next day because they were in deep sleep when it happened — and there are no mental images to recall...”

 

A snippet of an article flitted through his mind.  “It was a night terror!” He chuckled to himself, and relaxed a bit.

9:17 am.  His first class had fifteen minutes left, and he decided to wait until the next class at ten. Although he made a nice breakfast, and took a long shower, he decided that today was not the sort that required Italian leather and Armani.  Oh no, he couldn’t bring himself to it. (Another sign that things were catastrophically wrong.)

He ended up wearing the first T-shirt he found, a navy thing with a cartoon whale, the comical thing sported the words “Save the Whales!” A pair of discarded jeans were tugged on, he would later learn that they were not his.  Canvas sneakers, bought out of sheer desperation were laced up tightly.  He was beginning to miss his Italian leather.  Hannibal ran his hands through his blond hair half-heartedly, the icing on the horrific, casual cake.

Oh yes, things were different, very different.  

With satchel in hand, he set out to shock his fellow students.  And shock, he did.

 

Fast forward ten hours.   

  
Everything is W-R-O-N-G, wrong.  


	8. Rabbits and Rivers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's so bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cry if you want to, cry if you need to.

Will doesn't come home until late, late that night.

Hannibal was studying at the kitchen table, watching the hysterectomy he forgot to take notes on on YouTube, and thinking about his classmate’s reaction to today’s outfit.  

The surgeon in the video has just made the first cut, Hannibal takes a swig of his energy drink, the clock ticks 2:46 am, and Will comes home.

Will opened the door, that was a strip of blue sky (Hannibal never locked it anymore), hung his keys on the hook, and dropped his duffle by the doorway.  Hannibal twitched in irritation.

“Why are you--?” Will asked.

“Studying.” One word, without room for question.

“Suction!” A surgeon in the video shouted.

“I’m going to bed.”

“Ok.”  
“Clamp.” Those surgeons again.

Will didn’t look...well.  He was pale, his skin looked like gauze stretched over a bundle of sharp twigs.  When someone later asked Hannibal to describe him, he told them that Will looked like a Natural History Museum.  A set of bones on display.  

By ballet standards, he was beautiful, by medical standards, he was grotesque.  

This was the last thought that floated through Hannibal’s mind.  He closed his eyes, and despite the caffeine, he slept.

3:30 am, he was awoken by the sound of running water.  Hannibal peeled his face off the laptop’s keyboard.  The key’s square indents were pressed into the right side of his face.  

“Will?” He asked in a raspy voice.

Will stood with a mug of water in one hand, a two white pills in the other.  “Can’t sleep.” He muttered.

In a tenth of a second, everything changed.  Will’s knees buckled and he tried to support himself again the refrigerator.  “William!” Hannibal shouted and his notes erupted into a blizzard as he rushed over.

His voice echoed harshly through their small apartment, Will’s eyes flitted back into their sockets.

Will dropped and the mug shattered on the linoleum floor.  Lecter ran, crushing the skittering, white capsules underfoot.

The ballet dancer was only two inches away from a concussion when Hannibal shot his arm out, diving like a major league ball player for the winning catch.  He did break Will’s fall, but the shards of the Snoopy mug bit into his forearm.  It took him a while to notice.

This time Will did not flicker between consciousness, this time he was totally removed.

“No.”  Hannibal whispered and tried to find a pulse.  He found a weak one, fluttering like an injured moth.  

Hello, Reader, have you ever been in shock? Your mind’s shuttling coils and flashing circuits, stop shuttling and flashing, whirring and beeping.  It all stops.  Your thoughts wind down to the most basic desires.  Food, water, shelter.  Or in Hannibal’s case, “How To Keep Your Roommate Alive” (though he may be a stubborn prick at times).

Will Graham’s skin was on fire.  Then it was frozen.  Hot... cold... hot, cold, hotcoldhotcoldhotcoldhotcoldhotcold.  Wind blew through the open windows, and the house shivered.  

With Will’s head in his lap, he tried to form a few rational thoughts.  He wanted to be Hannibal Lecter, top of his class, master chef, with immaculate fashion taste, but on that frozen Tuesday, he was a cold, little boy, scared, and only able to think about the dust on the floor.  

Words slipped out of Hannibal’s mouth like oil.  They stumbled themselves into sentences, and ran together into stories.  Because what cold, scared, little boys need are bedtime stories.

“In a meadow by a lake, in a faraway land, there lived a family of rabbits…” Hannibal sobbed.  Hot tears dripped onto Will’s forehead, they washed away the dust.  

“Mama rabbit, Papa rabbit, sister rabbit, and baby brother rabbit.” Mrs. Lecter crouched by his side, and chimed in.  Hannibal repeated her words aloud to the frozen air.  

“And...and...there was a mean, old wolf named Rasmasthus.  He wanted to eat the bunnies for supper.”  Absentmindedly, Hannibal stroked Will’s temples, like his Mama used to do when he’d get migraines.

“But the rabbits were nimble, as rabbits always are.” Mama rested her manicured hand on her son’s shoulder.

“But the rabbits were nimble…” Hannibal echoed, “They escaped Rasmasthus at every turn.  But one day, they were not so lucky.”

Hannibal ran his fingers through Will’s hair, and the feel of the silky curls seemed to ground him.  “Daddy rabbit told his daughter not to come with him, but she didn’t listen.

Sister rabbit, whom they called Natalie, was not a bad little bunny.  No, she just loved her Papa so much that she wanted to follow him everywhere.”  Hannibal sighed, a shaky, broken sigh and his breath warmed the frozen air.

“Papa went out to find grasses and berries for their supper.  He hopped through the meadow, gathering food for Mama to make a meal out of, when he encountered the nasty wolf.  Papa did not know that hiding behind him, in a blackberry bush sat his daughter.  Rasmasthus knew she was in the bush and he sat waiting.”

Mrs. Lecter stood, and brushed the glass away from them.  “Hanni.”  She whispered.  Her voice was steady, but her eyes were wide with fear.  “Hanni, your arm.”  

Hannibal glanced down at his arm.  Blood ran in dark rivulets down his wrist and dripped onto Will’s neck.  “Aaah!” He gasped, watching the blood splatter on Will’s pale skin.

“Hanni.  Please go attend to your arm.” Her words were stiff and punctuated.  

“I... I… Papa rabbit kept wandering through the tall grass gathering--”

“Your arm!”

“...food, and Rastmasthus--”

“Hanni!”

“...CREPT CLOSER TO THE SMALL RABBIT,  DAYDREAMING ABOUT THE RABBIT STEW HE’D EAT THAT NIGHT!!” Hannibal screamed.

“HANNIBAL BRONISLOVAS LECTER! CLEAN UP YOUR DAMN ARM!” Mama shouted, and Hannibal jumped.  His blood crept down Will’s shirt, staining a red stripe.  

“Mama… I...can’t.” Hannibal’s left arm was completely numb.  He could not feel the glass piercing his skin, or the blood trickling from it.

“I’ll stay with him.  Please Hanni, go clean yourself up.”

“Mama--”

“Go!”

Hannibal slunk into the bathroom, and ripped the first shard out, wincing when he saw the bloody tear.  He pulled out all seven pieces of the Snoopy mug, leaving the broken glass in the sink.  He’d need stitches, but somehow, he didn’t care.  He slapped cotton pads onto the seven gashes and bound it all together with an Ace bandage.  

Then he returned to the kitchen.  


	9. Come Back To Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will's back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. Angst is what I write, and angst sometimes hurts to read. :(

"Come here, Hanni."  Mama instructed.  "I think...I think he's coming back." 4:04 am.  

Hannibal crept over, and resumed his original position.  He stroked Will's temples and finished telling how Natalie the rabbit escaped the clutches of Rasmusthus.  "And this is why children should always obey their parents."  The story was finished and Will was still gone.  A sob broke loose from Hannibal's chest.  

"Please,  _please,_ come back to me, darling.  I promise I'll..."  He trailed off, unsure how to put it into words.  He was begging for his roommate, the one who'd spoken under twenty words to him, but he still loved him like he'd known him his entire life.  Hannibal glanced up at the peeling ceiling, silently asking the big man in the sky to let this sick ballet dancer live.  "I'll be better." He whispered to the ceiling.  Mama was gone now.  Now it was just Will, Hannibal, a broken Snoopy mug and a lot of blood.  

Will blinked twice.  "Sorry I dropped that mug."  He whispered, staring up at Hannibal.  

"I don't give a damn about a Snoopy mug!" Hannibal gasped and pulled Will up into his arms before the tears came.  "Damn it, Will." He sputtered before tears strangled him.  He hugged Will tightly and let the waves of salty tears drag him under.  "Promise me, promise me you'll get better." Hannibal said.  

"Look, Han I don't--" 

"Please Will, this is all I'm asking."  He kissed his forehead and started carrying him towards the bedroom.  "I'll get you a note, you're staying home tomorrow." Hannibal added as he gently set Will down.  

"Get some sleep,  _grazus."_  

"Hannibal..?" Will sat on the edge of his bed, knees tucked up against his chest.  "Could you...?" 

"Could I, what?" Hannibal asked. 

"I...I don't want to be alone."

"Of course, _mielasis_.  I understand." Hannibal climbed in next to him, whale shirt and all, and gingerly pulled Will close.  He still smelled like pine and yellowed books, but something was different... he was so thin, and so frail.  Will was a bird, hollow bones liable to break at any moment.  Hannibal pressed a kiss into his curls that were more like feathers than hair.  _  
_

That was the first night Will didn't have nightmares.


	10. Clotting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The road to recovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still with me, readers?

The man with hollow bones slept until 10:19 am.  This time, he was not shocked to find Hannibal curled up next to him, he was glad.  

The man with the whale shirt woke up to find a cloud of questions.  He did not greet Will with any sweet words or kisses, the first thing he said was, "I need your doctor's name."  

"Schexnayder." Will admitted and untangled himself from Hannibal.  "Hannah Schexnayder."  Hannibal blocked Will from leaving the room.  "I should go clean things up."  Will didn't argue, he knew there was a lot of blood, and blood made him queasy.  

Hannibal swept Snoopy's broken remains into the trash and mopped the blood off the mottle linoleum.  "It's all clear!" He hollered and Will came to meet him in the kitchen.  

“I’ve got to go in to get my arm examined, and you will be coming alone.” Hannibal explained as he pulled out the ingredients for crepes.  “I do not mean any offense, Will, but after last night, I’d feel better if you came along.”  Will nodded and traced the scratches in the tabletop.  

“Have you ever considered therapy?” Hannibal asked.  

“I used to see a therapist.”

“Oh? How long ago was this?”

“I was fourteen.”

“I hope you realize, I’m asking Schexnayder for counselor recommendations.”

“You’re what?!”

“Counselor recommendations, I’m seeing to it that you’re put in therapy.”

Will muttered a string of curse words under his breath.  “I won’t go! You do realize that, don’t you?”

“William.” He kept his voice firm, trying to use the same tone his mother did.

“Hannibal.” Will mocked.

“You were unconscious for a half hour!”

“Don’t guilt trip me, you pretentious bastard!”

 _He didn’t mean that_. Mama Lecter’s voice soothed from within his mind.   _It’s a lot to take in, give him some time.  Go get your arm examined, the doctors will see he’s sick._

“I am not pretentious, William.”  Hannibal sighed and flipped a crepe.

“Are those my jeans?” Will asked, any notion of therapy long forgotten.

“What, of course not!  I am many things, but a clothing thief is not one of them.” Hannibal blushed, angry at the accusation.

Will stepped behind him and traced a finger along a paint splotch along the waistband.  “Yellow paint.” He announced.  “Ladies and gentlemen, Exhibit A!”  Hannibal blushed further and tried to focus on flipping crepes.

“Permanent marker swipe!” He tapped Hannibal’s thigh. “Exhibit B!” He laughed. “Shall I continue, Dr. Lecter?”

“Fine, they’re yours.” Hannibal groaned.  “I was in a hurry.”

“You? The great Hannibal Lecter, in a hurry?” Will asked with mock surprise. “Why Hannibal--”

“Shut up.  The crepes are done.” He grumbled and set the stack of crepes down with a little too much force.

Suddenly, all traces of humor vanished from Will’s face.  “I’m not hungry.” He whispered.

“Yes.  You are.”  Hannibal pushed him down into a chair, “Eat.”

“I don’t eat carbs.” Will tried another excuse.

“Yes.  You do.  Or at least, you do now.” Hannibal began spreading berries and whipped cream onto a crepe.

“Really, Han, I’m fine.”

Without warning, tears sprung to Hannibal’s eyes. “You promised.” He breathed, tears breaking his voice.

“Hannibal, you have to understand--”  
“If you love me Will, if you love me at all, you’ll eat breakfast.”

Will ate the crepes.  Meal No. 1

 

***

On the way to the InstaCare Will held Hannibal’s hand.  They hadn’t really acknowledged what was happening, but Hannibal was perfectly happen with small touches and sweet smiles, even if he didn’t know what to call it.  

When a nurse asked why he was in, he simply peeled away the sloppy bandages to reveal the seven--actually eight slits. (He’d miscounted) The nurse tried to reign in a gag.  “Does it hurt?” Will asked.  “Not at the moment.  Pain killers.” Hannibal smiled.  

As luck would have it, he’d missed a few shards of ceramic.  The nurses dug out ceramic, and cleaned and stitched his arm back together.  From the corner of the room, Mama let a relieved sigh go.  

Will never let go of his hand.

A doctor with blue-black skin, and hundreds of braids wound into a bun, scowled down at Will’s arm.  “Could I talk to you, sir?” She tapped on Will’s shoulder.  “Oh, uh, of course.” Will followed her as she ducked out into the hall.

“Honey, this is never an easy conversation to have.” She bit her lip and toyed with the hem of her scrub top.  “Sir, how much do you weigh?” Adriana, as her name tag read, asked.

“To be honest, I haven’t weighed myself recently.”

Adriana gently rested a hand on his shoulder. “Would you come with me, sir?” She led him to a scale in a back room, and gingerly closed the door.  

“What’s your name, hon?”

“Will.” Nerves jangled and caused him to slightly shake.

“How tall are you, Will?”

“5’11”, last time I checked.” He tried to make a joke, but it fell flat.  

“Take off your shoes, I need to weigh you.  Could you do that for me, hon?” Will’s heart pounded loudly, and he nodded weakly.  

Will stepped onto the scale, unable to breathe.  Adriana fiddled with the scale and bit her lip.  

“Will, you weigh 93 pounds.”  She wrapped her arm around his shoulders and sat him down on the exam table.  “Honey, that’s more than twenty pounds underweight.  Now, I know this is hard, but is there a reason this might be the case?”

Will began to cry, “I’m in the BTM.”

“You’re with the Maryland Ballet Theatre?”

Will nodded.

“Oh honey…” Adriana sighed and gave his hand a gentle squeeze.  “I’ve got a lot of ballerina friends, and I know it’s hard, but you need to understand that it’s not worth it.  You can’t put your life on the line for a role or a costume.  Will, you’re too important for that.”  

Everything in Will’s head stopped when she said that.  But he wasn’t shutting down, no, for the first time, he was starting up.  The engines began to whir and he began to understand.  

“I am?” He squeaked out, barely a whisper.

“Of course you are, sweet thing! That guy you came in with, what’s his name?”

“Hannibal.”

“I know that Hannibal loves you very much, you know that?  And I haven’t even met the guy!” She chuckled.  “Will, you’re very special to a lot of people, and it hurts them to have to watch you do this to yourself.”  

She spread her arms, “Bring it in, sweetie.” As she hugged him she whispered in his ear, “It’s gonna get better, and you’re gonna get better.”  

When Adriana released him she handed him a business card, “Dr. Finch leads an eating disorder clinic every Monday at three, can you make it then?”

“Actually, I’m in ballet until late at night.” Will admitted.   
“I’ll talk to him, convince him to do an early morning session, then.” Adriana slipped the card into Will’s hand, and gave him a warm smile.  “What’s your number? I’ll give you more details as they become available.”

He gave her his number and she hugged him again before nudging him out into the hall.  

“Are you alright, Will?” Hannibal sat waiting in a chair outside the door.

“Yeah, actually I am.” Will smiled.

Will drove home with Hannibal's hand intertwined with his, and a business card in his coat pocket. 

 

 

  



	11. Cadaver Lab

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That first kiss you all wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy :)

The first time Will kissed him was in a less than desirable location.  The cadaver lab. 

Hannibal had stayed late to catch up on some missed work, small stuff, really.  I think it was charting.  

He sat alone in the brightly lit, (and very cold) laboratory.  A battered notebook sits to his right, the pink corpse of Miss Bush to his left.  

Let's step back to get a better view of our surroundings.  The human anatomy lab was a wide, rectangular room with no windows and concrete walls.  Strips of florescent lights cover the ceiling.  The front half of the classroom is chopped up by long, black counters and chairs pulled up to them.  A giant whiteboard swallows up the front wall.  In cold, metal beds, lie the cadavers, they're rebels, they sit in the back of the room.  The refrigerated air is thick with the scent of formaldehyde, latex, and something else.  It's rumored to be the nauseatingly sweet smell of _death._

Hannibal hummed to himself as he stood hunched over Miss Bush.  He wears a once crisp lab coat, now mottled with Miss Bush's various fluids.  His gloved hands are deep in her abdomen, but cadavers are the rebellious sort, they don't bleed.  

There's a strange squelching coming from Bush, Hannibal ignores it and continues to search for a cause of death.  On a whim, he pulls out Diana Bush's kidneys.  

Let us set the scene:

Hannibal Lecter, stage right, there's a kidney in each of his hands, and a perplexed look on his face.  Will Graham, entering stage left, carrying a coat, wearing a look of shock.

"Good Lord!" Will shouted. 

"Hello, Will." Hannibal replies coolly.

"That's not a kidney. That's not a kidney. That's not a kidney." Will tells himself.

"Actually, it is.  Could you hold this?" Hannibal extends the left kidney and reaches for a retractor.  

"Han, I'm not holding a kidney.  I only came--Oh my that... that is a spleen." He sputters, "Look, put the spleen down.  You forgot your coat."  Will takes Hannibal's coat off and holds it out to the medical student.  Hannibal sets the spleen in a metal bucket and keeps working.  Will stares at Hannibal's coat, a wool sort of thing, expensive and ridiculously soft, he puts it back on.  The AC blows fifty-four degree air through the lab.  

"You actually enjoy this?" Will drags a chair over and becomes noticeably paler by the minute.  

"The miracle of life." Hannibal chuckles.

"It's dead, Hannibal." 

"The miracle of death." Hannibal corrects himself.  "Will, come look at this!" He points at the corpse excitedly, "Look at the size of her heart!" He laughed gleefully and reached into the cavity again.  Holding up the bloated organ he chuckled, "William, we have a cause of death!  Cardiomegaly, she's got coronary artery disease!" He squealed like a little kid on Christmas morning.  

It was in this excitement that he seized Will by the shoulders and kissed him.  "Ah! Brilliant, Will! Coronary artery disease, simply brilliant!"  He laughed. 

"Did you...? Did you just...?" Will asked, and I believe he was mildIy in shock.  He leaned against Bush's table and picked at a thread on the coat's sleeve.  After a minute, he dropped the thread and stood staring blankly across the lab.  

Hannibal would look up to see Will staring and thinking, and he'd laugh.  "Are you alright, Will? You seem... distraught." He burst into a flood of giggles and was unable to suture Bush back together.  Will didn't reply. 

Soon enough, Hannibal made a game of it.  "How Many Times Can I Tease Will Before He Snaps?" Was the name of the game.  If you're wondering, it was twelve. 

"So  _that's_ how he wants to play."  Will whispered, smiling devilishly.  Before Hannibal could register what was going on, Will had pulled him down by his silk tie.  Hannibal was finally at eye level with his counterpart, "Checkmate." Will whispered and closed the space between them. 

This, Hannibal was not expecting. 

He carefully set down his hemostat, before letting himself melt into Will's touch.  

Oh no, Hannibal Lecter was not expecting any of this.  

He was not expecting the way Will's hands would be tangled in his hair, disrupting the carefully gelled strands.  Will's lips were so soft and he  _tasted_ so sweet.  

Hannibal completely forgot about Miss Bush, and the charts and his forgotten coat.  His mind was absolutely pitch, except for a single thought,  _Will._ This one syllable illuminated the dark cavity.  He sighed and deepened the kiss.  

With Will pressed up against the wall, Hannibal broke it off.  "I'll accept defeat then, Will." He added and pressed a strand of kisses into the skin along Will's jaw.  

"I guess you'll have to get used to losing, then." Will grinned.   

 


	12. Romeo Retires

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sappy ending you all wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *squeals* Tell me if it's too cliche.

It started with breakfast, sometimes it was just something small, but it was something. Then he started eating lunch, and then he started eating dinner.

More importantly, he ate with Hannibal. Hannibal would make amazing meals, but it wasn’t the meals Will looked forward to. He looked forward to sitting down with his roommate and trading horror stories from that day at school.

It took a pleading visit from Hannibal, and a dramatic note from Dr. Finch, but eventually Madame Jackson let Will audition for Romeo. The audition was beyond flawless, the judges sat speechless as the watched Will dance, completely forgetting to take notes. Needless to say, he got the role, and Hannibal attended every performance, sitting as speechless at the judges did.

Will seemed to defy gravity.

Will starred in several productions until his retirement at age 29, when he went back to school to become a fifth grade teacher. It was during his first year of teaching that Hannibal proposed. He had just started the Ancient Egypt unit, and was grading tests while the students watched a documentary on King Tut...when Hannibal strolled into his classroom.

“Han, I’m a little busy--” But he was cut off when Hannibal dropped down on his knee, and produced a small black box from within his suit coat.

“William Graham, would you do me the great honor of marrying me?” Thirty-six fifth-graders (and Will) gasped.

Will dropped his red pen and stood there stunned, until Tanner Jensen shouted, “Say yes, you idiot!” from the front row of desks.

“Hell, yes!” Will exclaimed and pulled his (now) fiancee into a kiss, while thirty-six fifth-graders applauded like mad.  Mr. Graham never pegged his students to be such romantics.

Hannibal pulled him into a tight hug. “I’ll see you at home.” He whispered in Will’s ear and planted a kiss on his temple.


	13. Loops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We are given certain trials, so that we can help others later in life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, guys this fic has been fun to write. Thank you for your kind words and your kudos, love you all! :)

Christmas Eve, 2013.  

“Oh, Dr. Finch sent a card, that’s nice!” Will smiled and pinned Finch’s smiling family onto the bulletin board.  “It is nice that he remembers you.” Hannibal murmured and hugged his husband from behind, resting his cheek against Will’s shoulder.

“Here’s one from Adriana Nowland.” Hannibal handed him a slick polaroid of the nurse, her husband, and a shaggy dog.  Now he couldn’t contain his smile as he hung the card, and stepped back to admire their collection of cards.

One from the Maryland Ballet Theatre signed by Madame Jackson, a few from Hannibal’s siblings, a few from Will’s.  Will’s dog Winston wagged his tail happily in a photograph from Will’s parents.  Their neighbors The Hansen’s sent a card, as did the Charlie family and the Johnson’s.  The small bulletin board, was overflowing with cards and photographs.  

“Have we sent out our cards yet, Dad?” Adriana, his thirteen year-old daughter asked.  “I put them in the mail yesterday, mielasis.” Hannibal replied and mussed their daughter’s blond curls.  “Ugh, stop it Papa! I just did my hair!” She laughed.

“Hey, is that the nurse you named me after?” Adriana asked, pointing to the nurse’s photo.

“Ms. Nowland was very kind to your father, and she wasn’t easily forgotten.” Hannibal told their daughter.  

“She was a very special lady.”  Will laughed.

Will and Hannibal loved their three children very much.  Adriana, Bronislova or Bron as their nine year-old son preferred to be called, and Noelle, their sweet four year old.  They loved them so much that when Adriana, who was in ballet just like her father, stopped eating lunch they began to worry.  When Will found her crying in the bathroom, it was the final straw.  

“Ada?” He knocked on the door softly.  “We should talk.” He sat her down in the study and held her hand.  “I’ve got a story to tell you…”

“Your Papa claims he can remember the exact day this all started.  January 14th, his distant roommate came home devastated…” 


End file.
